Page 21 of Her Holiday Arrangement
“Sorry,” Riley said brightly, stepping into place beside her, voice just loud enough for nearby relatives to overhear. “Tookme a minute to soak in the generational wealth. I think I just walked past a nativity scene made entirely of crystal.”
Elizabeth didn’t laugh, but her mouth twitched at the corner, just slightly. “You’re on script,” she murmured, her voice low and private.
“Trying to stay on brand.”
Elizabeth’s hand brushed against hers in a casual, practiced motion, then took it gently. No stage fright. No nerves. Just clean choreography.
“I was starting to think you’d bolt,” she said.
“Tempting,” Riley whispered back. “But I promised I wouldn’t flee until after dessert.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to her again. Something warmer there, just for a heartbeat. Then, louder: “Come say hello to my aunt. And try not to scare the caterer.”
They stepped forward as a unit, Riley letting Elizabeth lead, letting her fall into the role of the graceful, attentive partner. One she could play, if only because Elizabeth made it weirdly easy. She even managed a real smile.
And as they passed the dragon vase, Riley muttered under her breath, just for Elizabeth:
“So, how many priceless heirlooms am I allowed to break before I’m exiled from Vermont?”
Elizabeth glanced sideways. “Two.”
Riley grinned. “Three if I make your aunt laugh?”
A pause. A hint of a smile.
“Three if you makemelaugh,” Elizabeth said.
Riley’s heart stuttered for a beat too long.
And then they were swept into the crowd.
Riley had faced a lot of daunting rooms in her life, her fifth-grade spelling bee, that one apartment where raccoons lived in the ceiling, Elizabeth Hale’s corner office at ten past six on a Friday, butthiswas a whole different beast.
The Hale family’s formal living room looked like it had been decorated by someone who thought Versailles needed more gold. There were velvet armchairs positioned for maximum discomfort, an antique harp in one corner (untouched but polished to a shine), and more family portraits than Riley could count. The most recent one featured everyone looking aggressively windswept on a yacht. She tried not to stare at it too long.
“Darling,” came a voice like soft silk hiding razors.
Riley’s stomach flipped as Elizabeth guided her toward the far side of the drawing room. The immediate family had already been polite, if a little formal, but now came the extended cast: cousins, a scattering of great-aunts and uncles with sharp eyes, and a few family friends who seemed to radiate wealth like a perfume.
Aunt Constance, Elizabeth’s great-aunt, swept across the room in a deep emerald gown that made her look like she had been carved from polished jade. Her smile was practiced, precise, and carried just the faintest edge of judgment. She stopped in front of Riley, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if measuring her worth.
“And this is Riley,” Elizabeth said smoothly, stepping forward.
Riley forced a confident smile and extended her hand. “The one and only,” she said, praying her voice didn’t betray the nervous flutter in her chest.
Aunt Constance’s gloved fingers met hers, firm but not warm. “So lovely to meet you at last,” she said, her tone polite but sharp. “Elizabeth has been… reserved, until now.”
Riley tilted her head, searching for a foothold. “Well, she finally got tired of eating holiday cookies alone, I guess.”
Aunt Constance gave a faint, tight laugh. “Charming,” she said, stepping back to scrutinize her carefully.
Then a trio approached: Elizabeth’s cousin, Nathaniel, his wife, Celeste, and the longtime family friend, Mr. Hawthorne, whose eyes seemed to measure everything they landed on. Nathaniel resembled Julian, Elizabeth’s brother, but was more animated, less restrained. Celeste was all silk and pearls, her smile fixed and teeth impossibly white.
“You’re her girlfriend, then?” Nathaniel asked, raising an eyebrow at Riley.
Riley’s smile stayed in place. “Depends on the time of day. Before ten a.m., I don’t speak to anyone unless they’re delivering coffee,” she said lightly, hoping to defuse the tension.
Celeste’s gaze lingered over her outfit, clearly noting the careful selection of designer pieces. “How… delightful,” she said. “Elizabeth has such exacting standards. It’s… refreshing.”
